


If Love's a Fight Then I Shall Die With My Heart on the Trigger

by hatethesilence312



Series: Mates AU [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Mates, POV Stiles, mates au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 17:12:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hatethesilence312/pseuds/hatethesilence312
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is Stiles' POV of my fic If You're Going Through Hell, Keep Going. It can be read as a standalone, though.</p><p>Stiles had a tendency to fall for all the wrong people.<br/>Stiles was kind of in love with Derek Hale.<br/>Derek doesn't even like Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Love's a Fight Then I Shall Die With My Heart on the Trigger

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I'm pretty blocked and can't seem to get this story out of my head. I'm struggling to write anything else. So I figured I would get this done so I can get some closure and move on.  
> so yeah, here's an unnecessary sequel.  
> The title is from the song Angel with a Shotgun by The Cab.

Stiles had a tendency to fall for all the wrong people. In kindergarten there was Susie O’Connor. She had curly blonde hair that she wore in two ponytails and nails were always painted pink. When she learned how Stiles felt about her, she twisted it to her advantage. She made him be the pony when they played House during recess and she would sit on his back and make him crawl all around. 

That’s actually how he met Scott. Scott saved him from Susie. They shared crayons and everyone knows that’s how you know a friendship is forever.

(A few months later he learned that most people don't _have_ ponies when they play House.)

After Susie there was Justin Melina in second grade. Justin liked to read and was smarter than most of the rest of their peers. Stiles always had a thing for brains, apparently. He only talked to Justin twice, but both times Justin was insulting Stiles’ intelligence. Stiles didn’t think it was even slightly _different_ that his second crush was on a boy. Once he got older, he decided he didn’t exactly _like_ Justin, he just appreciated his mind.

Then there was Lydia. Of course. Everyone knew about Stiles’ undying love for Lydia Martin, _including_ her. But that didn’t mean Lydia felt obligated to acknowledge Stiles’ existence. Ever. Until all the supernatural craziness began, that is. They became friends, eventually, but by then, Stiles had moved on.

He moved past the petite blonde genius and onto someone completely different. This someone was six feet tall and two hundred pounds of pure muscle, with _facial hair,_ and thick, calloused hands. He was also a werewolf. But that detail meant nothing.

This wasn’t like any of his other crushes. Stiles’ feelings for him were serious. He didn’t get stupid little butterflies or envy his brain. He wanted to spend as much time as possible around the surly man. He wanted to protect him, to hold him in his arms and keep him away from harm. He wanted to kill anyone and anything that ever hurt him.

Stiles was kind of in love with Derek Hale.

It wasn’t the gay thing that bothered Stiles—okay so he liked guys as well as girls, no surprise there—and it wasn’t the werewolf thing. It was the fact that Derek doesn’t even _like_ Stiles. Sure, they stopped being enemies a long time ago, and there was a tentative truce between Scott and Derek that allowed Stiles to spend time with either of them without offending the other.  But the truce was just that: _tentative_ and one misstep could ruin it. So Stiles ended up playing the role of messenger between Scott and Derek because Scott didn’t want to deal with Derek at all.

One day after school, Scott came over and clapped Stiles on the shoulder. “Can you do me a favor?”

Stiles recognized his tone and the question and knew exactly what kind of favor Scott was asking about.

“What am I asking Derek about this time?”

“It’s nothing it’s just—you know how I told you the wolves have all been smelling like each other? Like more than before?” When Stiles nodded, he said, “well, I asked Isaac to hang out after school today and he made some really bad excuse as to where he’d be, and he _lied._ I think it has something to do with that. Can you go up to Derek’s and just see if they’re there?”

“Why can’t _you_ go?”

“Isaac will be mad at me for not trusting him, and Derek makes me uncomfortable, Stiles, you _know_ that.”

Stiles glared at his supposed best friend and sighed. “Fine. But if my throat gets ripped out by Derek’s _teeth,_ I swear I will haunt your ass.”

Scott laughed and clapped his shoulder again. “Thanks, man, you’re the best. I gotta go—study date with Allison.”

“Does her dad know?”

  Scott avoided Stiles’ gaze, and that was answer enough.

“Be careful. Don’t get yourself shot.”

Scott smiled as he turned and sprinted off.  Stiles spun his keys around his fingers as he walked over to the jeep. He unlocked the door and slid inside, dumping his bag into the passenger’s seat. He checked his phone one last time before putting it with his bag and putting the key into the ignition and turning it.

Silence. Stiles moaned. “ _Nooo_ , baby, don’t do this to me.”

He turned the key again and the engine stuttered a couple of times but still didn’t start.

He sat back in his seat and got his phone out of his bag.

“Beacon Hills Police Department, how may I help you?”

“Hey, Rhonda. It’s Stiles. Is my dad available?”

“Stilinski! It’s been way too long since you’ve been by the station! You sound all grown up. How’ve you been?”

“I’m alright, pretty good. Sorry, I know it’s been long. I’ve been really busy.”

“Remember when you used to come around here all the time? I used to help you with math homework! I probably wouldn’t even understand it anymore.”

Stiles smiled sadly. He did remember that. He used to hang around the station after school for years after his mom died. He was fourteen before his dad trusted him home alone.

“Yeah, I do.”

“So what’s wrong? I mean, not that it’s not great to hear from you, but I figure you wouldn’t call for no reason.”

“My jeep broke down. I was wondering if my dad could come get me.”

“Ah. Well, he’s pulling in right now. I’ll put you on with him when he comes inside. Did you already call for a tow? If you didn’t, I can pull some strings, get them there faster. You still at school?”

“Okay. And No, I didn’t, that sounds great. Yes, I am. Thanks.”

“Anytime, sweetie. So are you and that McCall boy still making trouble together?”

Stiles laughed. “Of course.”

“Good. I’m glad some things never change. Oh, here he comes. Here you go. Sheriff, your son is on the phone.”

“Stiles? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Stiles said quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… my car won’t start. Are you able to stop by and give me a ride home? If you’re too busy, I’m sure I can manage, but—”

“Give me five minutes, okay? Did you call a tow truck yet?”

“No, I’m pretty sure Rhonda said she’d do it for me.”

“Okay. Let me just file a quick report before I forget and then I’ll be right over. You’re still at school right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. See you in a few.”

“Bye.”

“Wait, don’t hang up!” Rhonda said just as Stiles as pulling the phone away from his ear. “Still on the line?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Look, I know how exhausting high school is, and I understand you’re busy. But you should make some time to stop by every now and then. I miss seeing you all the time, and I know it’d make your dad really happy, even if you just poke your head in for a few minutes. It’s a stressful job and he feels terrible about leaving you alone all the time.”

Guilt punched Stiles in the stomach. He knew how his dad felt about leaving him alone.  He’d tried to reassure him on multiple occasions that Stiles is _fine._ He’s never minded being alone and he’s not lonely. But his dad was always worried about things he shouldn’t be.

“I’ll definitely try. Things are really chaotic for me right now, though. There’s a lot of stuff going on in and out of school.”

There was a pause and Rhonda sounded nervous when she spoke again. “Are you sure you’re doing okay, Stilinski? Being an officer’s kid is hard, I know that. My daughter made me more than aware, okay? I imagine it’s worse to be the _Sheriff’s_ kid. And I know that kind of gives you a reputation as a good boy, but if you think you need to go out of your way to disprove that reputation—”

“What? No! No, no, no, I’m not trying to disprove anything! Not that kind of stuff, Rhonda, I swear—” Stiles knew Rhonda's daughter had a problem with drugs and drinking when she was in high school. He really couldn't blame Rhonda for jumping to that conclusion. 

“Hugs not drugs, Stilinski.”

“I’m not doing drugs, Rhonda!” Stiles wanted to laugh. _No, Rhonda, I'm not on drugs. I just have a lot of werewolves to take care of and supernatural beings to fight_. “When I said chaotic, I meant Scott has been having a lot of girlfriend issues and I have to be there for him and I’m taking a lot of AP classes that I have to study for. It’s not drugs. I swear.”

“Alright,” She said, but she sounded cautious. “Well, I’m gonna go call a tow for you.  Hang in there, Stilinski, and don’t be such a stranger.”

“Of course,” He agreed. “Bye, Rhond.”

*          *          *

            “I hate Scott so much,” Stiles grumbled under his breath as he climbed through the forest on his way to Derek’s that night. “I’m never speaking to him again.”

            He stopped talking to himself after that, focusing on walking without dying. The ground was slick and muddy from recent rain and he had to carefully lift each foot to make sure he didn’t slide.

            He scowled at a fallen tree when he reached it. It was huge, coming above his knee. He carefully propped a foot up on it, but when he removed the other from the ground, his shoe was too slippery. It didn’t hold to the bark like he’d expected and he flew forward, landing in an awkward downward dog position in an attempt to save his jeans from getting muddy. “Shit!” He grunted, grabbing a nearby branch to pull himself upright.

            A loud roar tore through the woods and it really said something about Stiles’ life that he _recognized_ a goddamned howl.

            “So much for the element of surprise,” he grumbled some more as he began walking. He wiped his muddy hands on trees as he walked past them.

            When he reached the clearing, Derek was waiting, flanked by his pack. Derek was wolfed out, his eyes red and angry, ears pointed, face furry.

            “Er, hi, Derek,” Stiles said, pushing his hands into his hoodie pockets and hoping he would make it out of here in one piece.

“What are you doing here?” Derek snapped, infallibly polite.

Stiles ran his hand through his hair, a quickly forming habit, and sighed. “Scott’s been complaining in school a lot about how much you guys all smell like each other.” He gestured to the pack. “Instead of putting on his big boy pants and coming to see what you’re doing himself—”

            “He asked  _you_  to come?” Derek’s eyes seemed to get darker somehow and he looked absolutely enraged. Stiles was a bit offended.

            “Whoa. What, am I not  _good_ enough to crash your furry friends’ clubhouse meeting?”

            Derek took a deep breath and closed his eyes and shifted back. “It’s not safe for you here.”

            Stiles looked around. Everything seemed calm and a bit boring. Erica was leaning against the burnt remains of the house, filing her nails. “What, do you think Erica’s going to impale me on her nail file?"

            Derek glanced over his shoulder and grimaced. “We were training up until a little bit ago. If you hadn’t announced your arrival so noisily, we might not have noticed you were here until it was too late. When we’re training, we aren’t  _thinking,_ it’s basic instinct. We might mistake you for a threat. And then you’d be in trouble.”

            Stiles dramatically blinked and gazed at Derek. “Wow, Derek. I’ve never heard you use so many words. That’s astonishing, really. Consider me impressed.”

            “Go home, Stiles.”

            Stiles decided to ignore him. “So what is this, werewolf boot camp?”

            “You’re hurt,” Derek said, whirling on Stiles when he walked by him.

            “Not really,” Stiles did a quick once-over of his own body. His hands ached a little bit from slamming into the ground to prevent completely face-planting. “I just tripped.”

            “You’re bleeding.” Derek was glaring at the side of Stiles’ shirt as if it personally offended him.

            He shifted to look down. Sure enough, the fabric was ripped and he had a scratch along his side. “Aw, this was my favorite shirt!”

            “That’s pathetic,” Erica laughed.

            Stiles threw her a dirty look and lifted the shirt up to inspect his side.

            If looks could kill, Stiles probably would have dropped dead from the way Derek was staring at him.

            “Wow,” Erica cooed. “You’re pretty buff, aren’t you, Stiles?”

            He dropped his shirt and tried to ignore the embarrassed heat that rushed through him.  “That depends on how you define buff.”

            “Excuse me?”

            “Well, buff can mean  _off white_ —which applies, I’m pale—or to make a surface polished and that makes no sense—or muscular, or—”

            “Is it safe to assume tonight’s lesson is over?”

            Stiles felt his head jerk back at the interruption. _Rude,_ he thought.

            “No,” Derek growled, “Stiles. Go home.”

            “Actually—”

            “No.”

            “—I think I’ll stay. I wanna see what this is like.”

            “No.”

            Stiles rolled his eyes and sat down on the steps leading to the porch beside Erica. Just because Derek was the pack’s alpha doesn’t mean Stiles will automatically listen to him. There’s nothing that annoys Stiles more than being given orders. “Don’t mind me. Pretend I’m not here.”

            “I wish you weren’t here.” Ouch.

            “Aw, Derbear, don’t be like that.”

            “Don’t call me that.”

            Stiles just laughed.

            Derek sighed and looked resigned. “Alright, then. Boyd and Erica, Jackson and Isaac. Go.”

            His pack jumped up and shifted and started moving around predatorily.

            “Erica. Lure him toward you. You’ve only ever been the attacker. You need to learn defense, too.” Derek began barking out directions and Stiles really shouldn’t have found that so attractive.

            He watched Erica and Boyd go at it for a few minutes then over to Isaac and Jackson.

            “Boyd and Jackson, Erica and Isaac. Go.”

            “Jackson, control yourself. You’re being too personal. This is  _instinct.”_

After a few more rounds, Stiles checked his phone and realized that he didn’t have long before his dad would be getting off work. He really didn’t want to explain why he walked to the Hale property if he was late, so he got up and went to stand next to Derek. “I need to go. I need to make curfew. And I walked here, so...”

            “Why?”

            “Well. My jeep kind of broke down. Actually, it wouldn’t start at all when I tried to leave school. I called my dad and he came and got me, but he wouldn’t understand if I asked him to drive me to the remains of the Hale house at weird hours, so I figured the fresh air would do me good.”

            Derek sighed. He seemed to think about something for a minute before saying, “I’ll give you a ride.”

            It was the last thing Stiles expected, but he was pleased to hear it. “Can I drive?”

            “You think I’m going to let you drive my  _Camaro_ when you just broke your  _Jeep?”_

“Hey! It’s not my fault! My baby is  _old_ and she’s been through hell, okay?”

            Derek just rolled his eyes. “I’ll let you guys decide if you’re done with training today. I’m giving Stiles a ride home.”

            “Bye bitches,” Stiles sang and smirked when Derek glared at him as if Stiles is the bane of his existence. He might be.

            “I can make you walk.”

            “Shutting up.”

            Derek rolled his eyes again as he unlocked his car and got in. Stiles got in too and turned to look at him. “Careful. Rolling your eyes like that—you could strain something.”

            Derek seemed to decide this wasn’t worth responding to. He just started the engine and pulled away. 

**Author's Note:**

> So I've never written anything from Stiles' perspective before, so let me know how I did. And I'm not sure where Rhonda came from, honestly, but I like her character. She started out as filler to make this longer and turned into someone who I actually like and will probably include in some subplot later.


End file.
